


Snap

by ObsidianRomance



Category: Supernatural
Genre: End of the World, Kissing, M/M, Post Series AU, Wincest - Freeform, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 11:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1855750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianRomance/pseuds/ObsidianRomance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's snapping into the role required of him after the zombies swarmed in and boiled his and Dean's life down to pure primal survival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snap

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a drabble. It was in my head. I really miss writing zombies (which is what I write for non-fanfiction purposes). And I miss my Blood Borne 'verse. So this was my compromise to get it out of my head.

Things have a way of shifting and scraping along the surface until they click into place with such forcefulness that the reverberations can be felt for miles.

Sam thinks he knows when it happened. He heard the crack when everything shattered and forced itself back into a way of living.

Truthfully, he thought he’d be the one who took longer to evolve. It’s an old hang up that hasn’t been true for a long time but he’d been so determined to hold onto it that everyone falls in alongside his thinking. He’s not as sentimental as he’s made himself out to be, both he and Dean _know_ that. So letting old ways of life fall away isn’t, in actually, that hard for him.

Dean is a different story. He’s slower to come around to the way life _has_ to be lived now. He does what he needs to but he stares off like he remembers something else. Those longing looks are fleeting now.

Sam’s not really sure how he feels about that because like that quality in his brother was always something he could depend on.

It seems practically everything has changed now.

The one thing that hasn’t changed is their ability to survive. It’s uncanny how they can have more brushes with death than most people left alive and still come out on top. It’s refreshing that these zombie things are pure nastiness. There is no second guessing, no questions of morality; it’s just aim and shoot. No questions need to be asked. No soul searching needs to be done. So while the world is more dangerous, it’s also simpler.

Sam and Dean can handle dangerous and they think they’ve earned simpler.

The world is fucked up but so are they.

They figure out a way to live in the world that’s crumbling around them. They are, in the truest sense, feral. It’s the two of them against thousands of the undead. They don’t look for survivors or care about the breakdown of society because they’ve got each other and. in a way, that’s been the only truth they’ve ever had.

Their new world is one of bloody knives, disemboweled entrails, bullets to the head, and gun smoke. They live in shadows and the shades of dead blood. They’re on the fringe of still being human, which would have made the original version of Sam sad but now he sees it as the new definition of being alive.

Because Dean’s _alive_ and he moves in fluid ways that scream of pure primal survival. It’s how they got here, breaking their way through yet another forest of the dead and knowing they’ll come out on the other side.

“Sam!” Dean whirls and hip checks his brother, sending him enough out of harms way to land a knife in the skull of a corpse who looks like he’s been rotting since the plague first broke out.

There’s blood splatter and a snarl but the thing goes down like the bag of bones it’s supposed to be. Task finished, Dean’s riding a wave of adrenaline, chest working hard as he solidifies his stance in front of Sam.

Sam smirks. The stink of death is all around them and ambling forward, Sam can see that. But they’re slow enough for him to know they have time. Licking his lips, he hooks his finger behind Dean’s belt buckle and tugs him until their chests slam into one another’s. Their connection is like two live wires dancing and sparking. It’s the only reason they are able to find joy in a world that’s trying to extinguish it.

That’s when Sam hears the snap. It’s all in his head but it’s loud as a whip and everything boils down to this. His lips crash into Dean’s and they urgency behind their kiss is so forceful it almost knocks the wind out of him. Sam lets himself enjoy it for a moment, braving the brief closure of his eyelids before he opens them in time to see a zombie within firing range. The kiss isn’t broken but he swings his arm up and shoots the fucker in the head. A spray of gore hits them but their lips are sealed around each others and they’re as safe as they can ever be against infection.

If anything, the action riles Dean up. He growls possessively into Sam’s mouth and slots their bodies together so that he can slide his tongue along the confines of Sam’s mouth while opening his eyes to scan the area. The untamed energy in his eyes is terrifying, clashing completely with the neediness his body seems to hold for balancing out Sam’s. Nipping Sam’s lip, he raises his own pistol and takes out a female corpse who’s screaming like she’s asking for it.

When Sam smiles against Dean’s lips, he knows they’re one messed up bag of tricks but those tricks make his heart hammer in his chest and keep it that way.

They’re all alone in the world but Sam can’t remember a time when they weren’t. Even before the zombies came out to play.

 


End file.
